


Green Eyes

by 2ofacrime24



Series: Solace [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Coma, M/M, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-29
Updated: 2006-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2ofacrime24/pseuds/2ofacrime24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the final battle with Voldemort, Harry is sent into a coma. Ron mourns the fact that he might never see Harry's eyes again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Eyes

The room was too bright, with its white walls and lights. It had a certain smell to it, as if Hermione had just attacked the room with a few hundred bottles of disinfectant. The room was lifeless. The atmosphere of it made Ron’s throat close up, his nose twitch, and his eyes water. The only signs of life in the room were the vase of sunflowers that sat next to the bed and the steady up and down movement of Harry’s chest.

Harry. Ron found that all he could do was stand in the corner, his arms folded across his chest, a hard blank look etched across his face while the rest of his family surrounded Harry. They talked with him, telling him stories of how the few past months had been without the loom of Voldemort hovering over their heads every waking moment. They held his hand and brushed back his hair and looked at his face, his hallow cheeks and sunken eyes, as if he were wide away, staring up at them with his brilliant green eyes and smiling at each joke they cracked.

But he wasn’t. Hermione fluffed his pillows. Ron’s mother brushed back his hair, trying to comb away its tangled madness while Ginny held his hands. After all, Harry was hers and hers alone. The rest of the family formed a circle around him but Ron could peer through their bodies and see Harry’s face. No one seemed to notice just how gone Harry looked.

But Ron did. Ron did. He always saw it. Even when he wasn’t looking at Harry. He saw it when he closed his eyes, he saw it when he looked at his parents, his brothers, Ginny, Hermione, everyone. Everywhere he looked, there was Harry, with his sunken eyes, his hallow cheeks, and his pale cracked lips.

Ron touched his own lips, remembering the feeling of those cracked lips pressed against his own, unwarranted, forbidden. After all, Harry wasn’t his. He wasn’t his. He looked away, up at the clock that hung over the door. It told him it was time to leave. Sure enough, everyone looked at each other and nodded. It was time. They walked out of the room in single file while Ginny kissed Harry’s forehead and whispered how much she loved him in his ear.

When they noticed Ron had not left, Molly went back into the room and found him standing in the same spot he had been all day, staring at his best mate. “Come on love, it’s time to go home.” Ron nodded.

“I want to check up on Neville, see how he’s doing. I’ll be home later.” Molly looked up at her son. She sighed and stood on her tip toes to kiss him on the cheek before she left the room, closing the door behind her. The thought that she knew hit Ron like an unforgivable curse but Ron shook it off and closed his eyes.

He opened them to find Harry still lying in bed, still breathing steadily, still sleeping his life away. Would he ever wake up? Ron inched towards the bed before finally standing next to it. He looked down at his best mate, his foster brother, his lover for just a day. He pulled down the covers and took Harry’s right arm in his hands, bending it at the elbow and repeating it ten times before putting Harry’s arm back in its place. He then did the same thing with Harry’s left arm and again with Harry’s legs, bending them at the knee before putting them back on the bed and covering them up with the white, stiff sheets.

He then sat down and stared Harry, resting his chin in his hands, pondering what he should do next. Should he talk to Harry as his family had just a few moments ago? Should he brush back his hair and whisper how much he loved him in his ear? Should he crack corny jokes and laugh alone while pretending that Harry could hear? Could he?

Ron reached out and touched Harry’s lips, pulling back at the spark of electricity that shocked him the moment his skin touched Harry’s lips. Ron frowned but reached out and touched Harry’s lips again. This time there was no shock, just the feel of cold lips and Harry’s warm breath against his palm. How could he be so cold?

Ron sighed and rested his forehead against Harry’s arm, feeling the warm skin there, the arms hairs that tickled his skin. Ron wasn’t sure what to do to stop the ache that was filling him so completely. It wasn’t as if he could shake Harry awake and ask him to take the pain away as Harry had done so many times to him before.

He looked up, peeking over Harry’s arm. Somebody needed to give him a shave, his stubble was growing. Ron reached up and ran his palm against Harry’s chin, the rough stubble scratching him. He ran his palm down Harry’s throat, feeling the Adam’s apple that sat there. He wrapped his fingers around Harry’s neck, pressing down. Would Harry sputter? Would he wake up, his green eyes open, his hands at Ron’s arms trying to pry him off.

Ron looked at Harry and then climbed on top of him, straddling his waste. He wrapped both hands around Harry’s neck and squeezed. Come on Harry, wake up. _Come on Harry, show me you’re alive. Sputter, struggle. Please do something but lie there so still and cold_. He squeezed harder, tears blurring his vision of Harry. The cracked lips were beginning to turn a different color. Harry’s chest was beginning to fall at a rapid pace.

Ron blinked his tears away and stared down at Harry while squeezing his neck harder. _Will this pull you out? This? Don’t you know I’ve killed you Harry? Don’t you know I’m killing you? I killed you. I killed you. Sputter for me. Scream for me. Struggle for me. Show me you’re still alive. Please. I killed you._

Harry opened his mouth and his eyebrows scrunched together. He raised his chest up off the bed and gasped for air. Ron squeezed tighter, his eyes wide and blood shot, nothing but madness clouding them. Harry’s eyelids twitched and a cracked groan came strangled from his throat.

Ron’s hand pulled back and he let go of Harry, holding his hands above him, his breath coming in harsh pants. He looked down at Harry and waited. Waited for Harry to open his eyes. Harry panted, taking in deep breaths. His chest heaved as his breathing returned to normal. He didn’t open his eyes. Ron waited. He didn’t open his eyes. He wouldn’t open his eyes. Why wouldn’t he open his eyes?

 _No! No, I almost killed you Harry! Why won’t you open your eyes? Why won’t you open your fucking eyes!_ Ron stared down at Harry in disbelief. Tears clouded his vision and Ron bent his head down and wept. He pressed his face into the crook of Harry’s neck and breathed in the cotton of Harry’s hospital gown. His warm tears coated Harry’s neck and seeped through the gown. His nails dug into Harry’s chest and horrifying wails erupted from his throat. Any human being would have thought it was an animal in horrible pain.

Ron wept for hours, pouring out all his tears, his pain, and his anger and the fact that Harry wouldn’t open his eyes for him. Finally, after becoming worn out, Ron fell into silence, closing his eyes and taking in deep breaths. He looked up; eyeing Harry’s now bruised neck. How he would explain the purple and blue marks, he didn’t know. He sighed and traced the finger marks that circled Harry’s throat. He traced the contours on his throat, the Adam’s apple, the jugular, up his chin, to his lips.

He sat upwards, looking down. He pushed his thumb pass Harry’s lips and felt the inside of his cheek, hot and wet and smooth. Over his white teeth to his tongue. That tongue which had once touched almost every inch of Ron’s body. Ron dipped his head down and pressed his lips against Harry’s, pushing his tongue past to join his thumb in Harry’s mouth. _Will you feel this? Are you feeling this? Are you tasting me? Will this kiss wake you like in those fairy tales you used to tell me about?_

Ron pulled back and looked down at Harry, expecting his eyes to flutter open like in those fairy tales. They didn’t. They wouldn’t. Ron couldn’t help it. He grasped Harry’s gown in his hands and wept again, for his sister, for his Hermione, for Harry, for the love he lost. He wept for the fact that there was a slim chance he’d ever see those brilliant green eyes again.


End file.
